The transformation that has occurred within Carolyne since she arrived to the Kimbilio Center is truly indescribable. The closest description that comes to mind is this: beauty has risen out of the ashes. When Carolyne arrived at the home, her tears and screams of anguish were the only way she could tell her story. For almost a day, we listened to her cry. She was in pain. She was afraid. Her malfunctioning immune system had left her vulnerable to countless diseases and stripped her of her dignity. Wounds covered her body, but they also covered her soul. The virus had already killed her children. Her husband had left her. What she needed was more than we could give; and yet, God was providing her a safe place to come and find rest. We offered her a clean bed, pain medication and lots of love and support.
Shortly after Carolyne arrived to the home, I was sitting at her bedside when she looked up at me; and, to my great surprise, she smiled. The beauty I saw within her face was such a drastic contrast to the despair I had heard, only a few days prior, within her crying. And I wondered: what caused her to smile?
A few moments later, she struggled to speak. Her mumbled words were these: “You have done good to me.” Tears filled my eyes as I saw the dream of the Living Room being realized. The loving-kindness of God was meeting us in our brokenness. Carolyne may be dying, but there is something within her that has come back to life. For this miracle, I am most grateful.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Walking together.
There is an African proverb which says, “If you want to walk fast, walk alone. If you want to walk far, walk together.” Countless experiences in Kenya have taught me the wisdom and truth that lies hidden within these words. Even though I like to walk fast and to get things done, the journey I am on is long and cannot be done alone. In deep ways, I have grown to value the ones I get to walk with on dirt paths, to sit with alongside the sick, and to fight battles with for the sake of justice and mercy.
Yesterday, in a literal way, I walked far, together with my friend Rebecca. The afternoon sun was hot; and as some visitors have said, it was like walking up hill, both ways. I smiled, as I looked down at the dirt path we call a road, as it was filled with footprints of all sizes: some with shoes, most without. And I wondered how we had all ended up on the same path and where we were all going. Rebecca, a 33 year old widow and mother of two, and I were walking to a Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) support group meeting. It is a group of about 35 members that was birthed two years ago both by and for our clients living with HIV/AIDS. They lead the group and meet monthly to encourage one another to live positive lives: physically, emotionally, spiritually and economically. As we walked, Rebecca shared how, when she was first diagnosed with HIV, she felt shame and wanted to hide; but the Tumaini na Afya team had counseled and supported her to go for treatment and to join the support group. With time, she did both. She explained that, although life is hard, she now knows she is not alone in this journey. And that gives her hope. Like so many other moms who are living with HIV/AIDS in Africa, Rebecca’s dream is to live to raise her children. By the grace of God, she will.
When we reached the meeting, my heart was encouraged as I looked around the room. It was full of people who I have watched, in so many ways, come back to life. What a privilege it has been to walk alongside of them and to see them become hope-filled and purpose driven. God’s love has empowered them to encourage people newly diagnosed with HIV. From experience, they can tell their stories and say: “I remember when I was sicker than you. Do not give up.” or “Like you, I was scared but God is with us.” The power of their words is striking to me, because it stems from their courage to speak about their weaknesses. As they share together, freedom from fear and rejection is found and makes room for living life.
Our first patient has come to Kimbilio Center (The Refuge)... She is a young mother who is dying of AIDS. The virus has destroyed her immune system; and to this point, the anti-HIV drugs are not staying within her body long enough to have effect. This combination is devastating. Pauline, a kind and gentle lady, is no longer able to walk and finds herself so weak that she depends upon others for all of her needs. As I arrived to her home one day, she was sitting outside vomiting the morning’s dose of medications. Her two year old son was playing beside his mother’s suffering. In so many ways, they were alone.
As I knelt down to wash Pauline’s hands and face, I was struck by the phrase written on her t-shirt. This may sound ridiculous, but it was like God was speaking to me through the words on her shirt. Before I go on, let me explain about one societal thing first. In Kenya, second hand clothing, imported from the U.S. and Europe, is what most people can afford to buy and wear. Crazy sayings and brands, some better than others, end up in villages plastered on t-shirts. Pauline was wearing a ragged, Disney shirt with the character of Eeyore; but the message said this: “Thanks for noticing me.” As I attended to the needs of this mama and looked her in the eyes, I felt like I was living the passage of Matthew 25; and Jesus was saying: “I was hungry. Thanks for noticing me. I was thirsty. Thanks for noticing me. I am so sick, and you came to visit me. Thanks for noticing me.” I do not tell this to brag about my goodness; in truth, it was a reminder to me of the pure, reckless love of God. I was humbled. I saw the presence of God dwelling in brokenness. Pauline’s suffering was Jesus’ suffering too.
Yesterday, in a literal way, I walked far, together with my friend Rebecca. The afternoon sun was hot; and as some visitors have said, it was like walking up hill, both ways. I smiled, as I looked down at the dirt path we call a road, as it was filled with footprints of all sizes: some with shoes, most without. And I wondered how we had all ended up on the same path and where we were all going. Rebecca, a 33 year old widow and mother of two, and I were walking to a Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) support group meeting. It is a group of about 35 members that was birthed two years ago both by and for our clients living with HIV/AIDS. They lead the group and meet monthly to encourage one another to live positive lives: physically, emotionally, spiritually and economically. As we walked, Rebecca shared how, when she was first diagnosed with HIV, she felt shame and wanted to hide; but the Tumaini na Afya team had counseled and supported her to go for treatment and to join the support group. With time, she did both. She explained that, although life is hard, she now knows she is not alone in this journey. And that gives her hope. Like so many other moms who are living with HIV/AIDS in Africa, Rebecca’s dream is to live to raise her children. By the grace of God, she will.
When we reached the meeting, my heart was encouraged as I looked around the room. It was full of people who I have watched, in so many ways, come back to life. What a privilege it has been to walk alongside of them and to see them become hope-filled and purpose driven. God’s love has empowered them to encourage people newly diagnosed with HIV. From experience, they can tell their stories and say: “I remember when I was sicker than you. Do not give up.” or “Like you, I was scared but God is with us.” The power of their words is striking to me, because it stems from their courage to speak about their weaknesses. As they share together, freedom from fear and rejection is found and makes room for living life.
Our first patient has come to Kimbilio Center (The Refuge)... She is a young mother who is dying of AIDS. The virus has destroyed her immune system; and to this point, the anti-HIV drugs are not staying within her body long enough to have effect. This combination is devastating. Pauline, a kind and gentle lady, is no longer able to walk and finds herself so weak that she depends upon others for all of her needs. As I arrived to her home one day, she was sitting outside vomiting the morning’s dose of medications. Her two year old son was playing beside his mother’s suffering. In so many ways, they were alone.
As I knelt down to wash Pauline’s hands and face, I was struck by the phrase written on her t-shirt. This may sound ridiculous, but it was like God was speaking to me through the words on her shirt. Before I go on, let me explain about one societal thing first. In Kenya, second hand clothing, imported from the U.S. and Europe, is what most people can afford to buy and wear. Crazy sayings and brands, some better than others, end up in villages plastered on t-shirts. Pauline was wearing a ragged, Disney shirt with the character of Eeyore; but the message said this: “Thanks for noticing me.” As I attended to the needs of this mama and looked her in the eyes, I felt like I was living the passage of Matthew 25; and Jesus was saying: “I was hungry. Thanks for noticing me. I was thirsty. Thanks for noticing me. I am so sick, and you came to visit me. Thanks for noticing me.” I do not tell this to brag about my goodness; in truth, it was a reminder to me of the pure, reckless love of God. I was humbled. I saw the presence of God dwelling in brokenness. Pauline’s suffering was Jesus’ suffering too.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Birds
After 41 hours of travel, I arrived safely back to Kenya on Saturday night. I am still working through the jetlag; but last night, while I was wide awake at three in the morning, I was overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude and joy to be here again for this season of ministry and life. For the last three months, I have visited 11 states and traveled on 30+ airplanes to share the vision of Living Room, a dream that involves providing quality end-of-life care to those considered poor and too often forgotten by the world. I want to say thank you so much for the ways you welcomed me to your churches, homes, and restaurants and allowed me to share my heart. More deeply than I can possibly tell, I have been encouraged and inspired by the way you have chosen to stand with Living Room. Your prayers, the offering of talents, acts of kindness and generosity have allowed me to see God’s favor in such unexpected and powerful ways.
In October, as I was leaving to come back to the States, a couple of my dear Kenyan friends prayed for me. The purity of their words and their love for God touched my soul and allowed me to hear a familiar message, as if I had never heard it before—tenderly. It was simply this: God takes care of the birds, and He will take care of you. It was an invitation to trust. In countless ways, during the past three months, I have experienced God’s provision, and I have been reminded that God is not limited by our limitations. And something interesting has happened within me—I have begun to notice the birds. When I see them or hear their singing, I am aware of God’s presence and care. Yesterday, I was walking amongst what felt like a sea of people in a courtyard at a large hospital. Everywhere I looked there were people in need and full of despair. There were images of death and sounds of mourning. In the midst of the brokenness, I heard the hope-filled sound of a tiny bird singing. And I was taken by the thought that Jesus walked these same paths. He sat and wept with the brokenhearted. He touched the bodies and souls of those rejected and afflicted with disease, and His compassion healed them. He welcomed children to disrupt His plans. He ate with sinners, and they were freed from their shame. He fed the hungry with good things. The “out of order” condition of the world must have caused Him to shake His head at times. He knew it was never meant to be like this; and that only His love could make, what was so wrong, right. And so He loved.
He has invited us to do the same.
In October, as I was leaving to come back to the States, a couple of my dear Kenyan friends prayed for me. The purity of their words and their love for God touched my soul and allowed me to hear a familiar message, as if I had never heard it before—tenderly. It was simply this: God takes care of the birds, and He will take care of you. It was an invitation to trust. In countless ways, during the past three months, I have experienced God’s provision, and I have been reminded that God is not limited by our limitations. And something interesting has happened within me—I have begun to notice the birds. When I see them or hear their singing, I am aware of God’s presence and care. Yesterday, I was walking amongst what felt like a sea of people in a courtyard at a large hospital. Everywhere I looked there were people in need and full of despair. There were images of death and sounds of mourning. In the midst of the brokenness, I heard the hope-filled sound of a tiny bird singing. And I was taken by the thought that Jesus walked these same paths. He sat and wept with the brokenhearted. He touched the bodies and souls of those rejected and afflicted with disease, and His compassion healed them. He welcomed children to disrupt His plans. He ate with sinners, and they were freed from their shame. He fed the hungry with good things. The “out of order” condition of the world must have caused Him to shake His head at times. He knew it was never meant to be like this; and that only His love could make, what was so wrong, right. And so He loved.
He has invited us to do the same.
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